The Two Champions
by Na'hiel
Summary: Harry won't go back to the Dursleys after his third year. Instead, he runs away to stay with his father's cousin's son in Kirkwall, where he'll join Hawke's merry brand of brigands. Is Hogwarts ready for a Harry trained by a Hawke? Pairings will include: m!Hawke/Anders and Harry/Fenris, and possibly Harry/Isabella/Fenris just for fun. Rating and title subject to change.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Dragon Age II.**

**A/N: Okay, I don't normally like putting notes at the top, but I thought that you guys deserved a bit of an explanation that probably won't be happening in story-verse. Here's the way this story works: Forever and ever Harry's realm and Thedas have been linked. There is immigration between the two realms. As it turns out, Hawke's mother was James' cousin. So Hawke and Harry are related in some way, shape, or form. Story starts in the summer after Harry's year three and right before Act III begins in DA2.**

The Two Champions

Prologue-

"Messere Hawke, you've a visitor," Bodahn began, an ingratiating smile on his craggy dwarven face.

Hawke groaned. "Really?" he asked as he crawled out from under the covers. "It's the middle of the night; can't they come back at a decent hour?"

"Yes, because emergencies always happen at a decent hour," Anders muttered sleepily even as he curled into the warm spot left by Hawke.

"It isn't really an emergency, Messere, but I thought it was something that you might prefer to address yourself," Bodahn clarified with a small wince.

"Then tell whoever it is to come back tomorrow!" Hawke shouted, and began crawling back under the covers. He swore, the people of Kirkwall seemed to think that he was at their beck and call just because he'd taken out the Arishok for them. It was ridiculous.

"Yes Messere," Bodahn said, and Hawke heard him leaving the room. "He's awfully young to be out alone in the dark in Kirkwall, though."

Hawke's eyes snapped open. He'd only just closed them, but... "What?" he asked flatly. He wasn't about to send some kid out into the streets of Kirkwall in the dark.

"It's just that the boy can't be more than thirteen years of age, Messere," Bodahn answered.

Hawke closed his eyes and let out a groan. "Well, there went my sleep for the night," the Champion grumbled and rolled out of bed. He made certain to take the covers with him.

"Making me suffer too?" Anders asked with a small, sleepy smile that made Hawke's heart skip a beat.

"If I have to be up then so do you," Hawke said with all the cheer of one used to being forced awake at odd hours by his insane friends.

He pecked Anders swiftly on the lips, because who could resist that adorable little smile? then pulled on his robe and made his way downstairs, Anders and his Mabari, Blade, at his heels. There was a boy in the sitting room, pale and shaky and wearing the clothing of an Outrealmer, ratty and oversized. He stood by the fire, the wooden stick that was an Outrealmer's wand held loosely in his hands. A large, black, shaggy dog was settled at his feet, tongue lolling happily.

"Can I help you?" Hawke asked.

The boy jerked in surprise and whirled, his wand coming up to point directly between Hawke's eyes. He dropped both the wand and his gaze with a muttered, "Sorry."

Hawke shrugged. "You just win the dubious honor of being the first person to point a weapon at me today. I doubt that you'll be the last."

"I still shouldn't have... I'm sorry," the boy whispered. His eyes were still down; his trembling had worsened.

Hawke felt like a monster and he hadn't even done anything. "It's fine," Hawke said with a casual wave of his hand. "Not a bad instinct to have in a place like Kirkwall, to be honest. Especially if you're going to be out on the streets in the darkness. Which brings me to the question: You're here at this ungodly hour of the night for a reason, right?" And then promptly felt like a heel for even sounding half so cranky. Really, this was just a kid.

"I..." the boy paused, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. The dog at his feet leaned against him and let out a small little whine, and more of the tension left the child. "The short version is that I won't... I can't stay with my Aunt and Uncle, and I needed someplace to stay for the summer, and we're related, so I thought that maybe I could stay with you," he said in a rush.

Anders burst into laughter. "Kid, I think you're in the wrong place," the Mage said through his chuckles.

"No, sir," the boy said, his tone respectful. "I visited the Potter family vault and the Amell name was on the self-updating family tree, and Mr. Hawke was the only name that my... that I thought would be a viable option for taking me for the summer. Other than the Dursleys, whom I've already stayed with and had a falling out with. The tree presented him itself when I asked it."

"Go around talking to trees often, do you?" Anders asked. "Did it have much to say? Because in my experience, they're very close-mouthed."

The child flushed and said quietly, "It was a family tree, sir, and it didn't speak. It merely highlighted Mr. Hawke's name when I asked it my question."

"Anders," Hawke said in quiet rebuke. He wasn't all that familiar with Outrealm magic, but he knew enough of it to know that if the kid said he'd consulted an updating family tree, he probably had. "Outrealm magic doesn't work quite like ours."

Anders let out a small huff of air and when Hawke glanced at him, alarmed, the Mage had a very sulky expression on his face. "Well, as I know nothing of Outrealm magic and Outrealm ways, I suppose I'll go find someplace to be useful. Like my clinic. I'm sure there'll be somebody waiting down there even at this hour. And the Darktowners are always glad for my advice." Anders stormed from the room.

Hawke winced at the sound of the cellar door slamming shut. He supposed it was a good thing that Anders tended to leave his staff right by the entrance, otherwise the Mage would be out and about at this late hour unarmed. Not that Justice was ever truly unarmed, but still. Anders shouldn't exactly be letting the d... the spirit manifest where a Templar could see.

Meanwhile, the child before him looked almost devastated. "I'm sorry," he said, the words a plea. "I... this was a terrible idea. I should... I should go," he whispered. He reached for his trunk, which Hawke hadn't even noticed, and said, "I'm very sorry for disturbing you, sir. You won't see me again. I'm sure I can find a hotel or something to stay in for the summer," the boy threw over his shoulder as he hefted his incredibly massive trunk up by one arm and began to drag it from Hawke's sitting room.

Hawke let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He just knew that he was going to regret this. It wasn't as though he didn't have enough problems of his own; didn't the Maker give him enough to deal with as it was? "Stop," he commanded.

The boy froze and turned back to him, the hope in his bright green eyes painful for Hawke to see. While the color wasn't one he'd ever seen before, the shape and the expressiveness was enough to make him think of dear Bethany. "Sir?" the boy asked, and his voice shook with that same hope.

"Take a seat," Hawke said, and nodded in the direction of one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. "Tell me the whole story, and we'll go from there." He settled himself into his own chair and Blade settled at his feet after giving the other dog a wary look. "Bodahn, I know that it's late, but if Orana could make us some hot tea?"

"Of course, Messere," the dwarf said with a low bow, and left the room. Hawke didn't feel too guilty about it; he knew that Orana had worse in her time than being woken up in the middle of the night for tea. And she would have worse if Hawke burned the manor down by trying to cook.

The child hesitated, then didn't so much settle into his chair as perch nervously on it. His own dog settled at his feet in much the same position as Blade and watched both Hawke and his Mabari, hackles raised. "It all started with..." The boy stopped, then shook his head. "No, wait, my name is Harry Potter."

Hawke kept his voice as gentle as he could, having some idea of how easily startled the boy was. "It's very nice to meet you, Harry Potter. As you likely already know, my name is Serel Hawke." He was going to have to work on the boy's nervousness if he was going to stay here for the summer. Crazy things happened in Kirkwall, after all, and he couldn't have the child losing it if a dragon were to attack or something. Oh, Maker, he hoped he hadn't just cursed them with a dragon attack. The city was still trying to pick up after the Qunari invasion three years ago.

The boy opened his mouth to say something, what Hawke didn't know, but Orana arrived with the tea. She settled the tray on the table between them and Hawke murmured a soft, "Sorry for the trouble," as she poured him his cup and added just the right amount of sugar, and then one for the boy.

"It isn't a problem, m'lord," Orana said, still as nervous as ever she was. He was working with her, but it was slow going. He knew that years of abuse couldn't be undone in a few months of safety. "Sir? Your tea?" she asked softly. The boy started and Orana added, "How much sugar?"

"Oh, whatever's fine," the boy whispered. When she handed him his cup, with more sugar than Hawke would have been able to tolerate added, he said quietly and sincerely, "Thank you."

Orana bowed and excused herself from the room. "Drink some of your tea," Hawke suggested quietly. "It will take some of the chill off," he added, and hoped that it was chill and not nerves that made the boy's hands shake. But deep within his heart he knew that it wasn't.

"Of course, sir," the boy whispered, and sipped at the tea. His hands were still shaking badly enough that Hawke though the tea might spill over, but once he'd taken a sip or two, his hands steadied. All at once the child seemed to relax into the chair, and Hawke let out a soundless sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir," the boy whispered.

"Please, call me Hawke," Hawke begged. The 'sir' made him feel like he was due to be getting grey hairs. Or like he was with Kirkwall's nobility. Neither image was particularly appealing. Hawke was many, many things, but a 'sir' was not one of them. And never would be, if he had his way.

"Yes sir... Hawke," Harry offered. "I had a... I had a pretty okay childhood," the boy finally ventured, apparently willing to begin telling his story now that he'd settled down a bit. "It wasn't exactly what you might say was the best, but it wasn't the worst. My guardians didn't hit me or anything, but they didn't care much for me either. Last year, though, I did something that I don't think they'll forgive me for and I didn't want to chance staying with them this summer. So like I said, it's just a place to stay for the summer that I need."

Hawke's eyes narrowed. He definitely smelled a rat in this. "What did you do that was so unforgivable?" he asked, not sure that he could believe that this timid little thing would do anything terrible.

"Iblewupmyaunt," Harry said so quickly that it took Hawke a moment to puzzle it out.

When he did, he couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard. "You blew up your Aunt?" he asked, incredulous. "With what?"

"I mean, she turned into a sort-of balloon," Harry clarified awkwardly. "She was insulting... she was saying awful things about my mother, and I just sort of lost my temper. I didn't mean to or anything, it just kind of happened. But I'm still not sorry I did it," Harry added, defiantly.

Oddly enough, it was that spark of defiance that made Hawke feel better about this whole thing. "Good for you," he said with a small grin. When Harry looked surprised, Hawke said, "I'd murder anybody who insulted my mother, so I'm impressed by your restraint."

Harry offered him a shy, sweet little smile, and Hawke was hit suddenly by a sense of possibility. Here was a young child in need of his care. A child who presented a chance to maybe do a better job of looking after a youth than he'd done with his own sibling. A chance to do things right the second time around, as it were. Carver still would barely talk to him and he'd been with the Grey Wardens for almost six years. But this was a new chance, and one that Hawke thought that maybe he could finally do right with.

Hawke just knew that he was going to regret this, but, "Okay, kid, you and your dog can stay."

Harry looked surprised. "Don't you want some kind of proof? I brought the tapestry I mentioned; it's in my bag," the boy offered.

Hawke shook his head. "Look, you're either really my relative, in which case I'm honor bound to look after you. In which case I want to look after you, even. Or, you're a damned fine con-artist, in which case you'll be an excellent addition to my already insane and eccentric band of misfits. One way or another, you and your dog are welcome to stay with me," Hawke said cheerfully. Anders was going to kill him. Then, after a moment's thought, he added, " For as long as you need, not just the summer."

Harry lunged forward and flung his arms around Hawke, quite surprising to the Mage who fought down an instinctive fireball. "Not generally a good idea to startle a Combat-Mage," Hawke pointed out even as he gently patted the boy on the back. Maker, the child was thin.

"Thank you," Harry whispered in his ear.

It was late, after Harry had settled back into his chair and finished his tea, after Hawke had settled the boy into the couch on the study because the only other unoccupied bedroom in the house was currently uninhabitable and filled with his mother's things still, and Hawke was getting ready to blow out the candles and bid the boy goodnight that the boy asked quietly, "What if my dog is really my godfather who's wanted Outrealm for a crime that he didn't commit?"

Hawke froze, the candles in the room partially burned out. He said with a cheer that he didn't really feel, "Then I guess it's a good thing that he's in Thedas and not Outrealm. We don't extradite."

"Oh. Good," the boy said sleepily.

"Harry, is he?" Hawke asked, not really sure he wanted to know. The boy was already asleep, so Hawke turned to the dog. "Are you?" he asked him, grateful that he was Ferelden and was used to treating dogs as though they were intelligent. Otherwise, he might feel like an idiot right about then.

The dog chuffed out a laugh and nodded, his mouth opening and tongue lolling out in a doggy grin.

Hawke closed his eyes and considered how to deal with that. Finally, he settled on, "Right. Did you want a bed, then, or a couch, or are you okay on the rug in front of the fire?" Seriously, he was going to feel like an idiot tomorrow if Harry told him he'd just been playing and the dog was just very well trained.

The dog lay his head back down on his paws and curled up into a ball in front of Harry's couch, Harry's hand tangling in his fur as though the boy was trying to reassure himself that the dog was still there.

Hawke thought it was adorable, and also that it meant that the dog was fine where he was.

He left the room with a headache forming. As he went to bed, he wondered once more if maybe he hadn't made a terrible mistake. And as he dropped back into an uneasy sleep of his own, he hoped that Anders wasn't so surprised that the boy was still there that he killed the child when he came up from the clinic in the morning. Maybe he should have left a note...

* * *

****

A/N: Another new one from me! I know, I know, I have too many works in progress. Alright, guys, same deal on this one as on Dragon Singer. I'll update when it's ready to update. But Heir is still my priority. Also, if anybody's reading this that doesn't know DA2, feel free to PM me and I'll tell you what I can of the story of the game. Or just google it, there's a very comprehensive wiki about it. As always, thanks in advance for reading and reviewing, and I hope you enjoy this romp through cannon! And last but not least, further chapters should be mostly from Harry's P.O.V.


	2. Chapter One: The First Summer

**Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Dragon Age 2.**

**WARNING: Guys, I'm so sorry. I have to warn for a major character death in this chapter. Further notes at the bottom of the chapter. Also, super long A/N at the bottom of the story. DON'T read that first, unless you want spoilers.**

The Two Champions

Chapter One: The First Summer

Harry woke up confused.

He wasn't at Hogwarts anymore, he knew that right away. He didn't sleep on a couch at Hogwarts. He wasn't in his room at the Dursleys', either, because the couch was more comfortable than his bed. And he didn't sleep on the couch there, either. Nor was he sleeping on a couch at either the Burrow or the Leaky Cauldron. Where was he, and what was that fur doing under his... oh.

"Padfoot?" he whispered, and his godfather responded with a soft rumble of noise. Harry let his fingers tangle briefly in his godfather's fur once more before he sat up slowly.

That was it. He was Outrealm, in Thedas. Kirkwall, specifically, staying with his father's cousin's eldest son, Serel Hawke. Who lived in a mansion and apparently wasn't put off by Harry pointing a weapon at him. Had, apparently, been amused by the whole mess. Harry sort of wondered what that said about the kind of life his... his cousin lead.

"You finally awake, then, sleepy head?" came said cousin's chipper voice.

Harry startled. He wondered how late he'd slept, and what the punishment would be. And then he registered that a question had been asked and he swiftly responded with a, "Yes sir." He wondered what Hawke would require of him to allow him to stay. He should have thought to ask last night, but he'd been so very tired. Besides,whatever it was, he didn't think it would be as bad as things had been at the Dursley residence.

It hadn't just been the incident with Aunt Marge that had sent Harry fleeing the repugnant family. Harry felt awful about not telling Hawke the truth, but how could he? What had happened was awful, of course, and who would want to take on a burden like him if they knew how damaged he was? Oh, it hadn't been as bad as all that with the Dursleys. They'd made him do unreasonable amounts of chores, and they'd never fed him the way that they should have, and Dudley had beaten him quite severely sometimes, but that was it. It could have been worse. But Harry couldn't risk not being able to stay. So what had happened was none of anybody's business. Not even Sirius knew.

"So, here's the thing, kid. Kirkwall's a pretty dangerous city at the best of times, and Maker knows we haven't been in the best of times for a very long time. The way I see it, you have two options. The first is that you can hang out here in the manor all day where I can at least assume that you'll be safe most of the time. People don't generally fuck with my house, considering how very dangerous I am. The second is that you can come out with me and cause mischief and mayhem with myself and my minions," the mage said, leaning casually against his staff.

Harry hesitated. "Is this... is this a trick question, sir?" he finally asked. Why would he want to stay in a dusty old manor when he could be out adventuring? Never let it be said that Harry wasn't the adventurous sort, after all. There was a reason he'd wound up in Gryffindor.

"Didn't I ask you to call me Hawke?" his cousin asked, a trace of irritability coloring his tone. "No, I mean, I know you aren't a trained fighter or anything like that, but between me and mine we can fix that up real fast. And the best way to learn is by doing, so if you come with me you'll learn fast. You certainly look light enough on your feet to learn from either Varric or Isabella, or Sebastian if you really want to learn how to be a pious a..." Hawke stopped, then cleared his throat. "Pardon me. Strike that last bit. You can learn from either Varric or Isabella easily."

Harry considered. "I already have a weapon," he pointed out, and drew his wand in emphasis. "I mean, I'm not the best with it, I'm only just entering my fourth year, but I'm not that bad. I can cast a mean _Patronus_ charm."

Hawke frowned. "I...have no idea what that means. And to be honest, I'm not entirely sure what Outrealm magic can really do. I'd prefer it if you're able to fight in a way that I recognize, although you can certainly use your wand to supplement. Besides, we can never have too many rogues. Never. But if you don't want to learn to fight, well, that's fine, but I will leave you here with Bodahn and Oranna. And your dog." Hawke paused, then, and eyed Padfoot rather suspiciously, then continued with, "And this certainly isn't a one-off kind of thing. If you're going to be here all summer, well, you have plenty of time to change your mind."

Harry considered the matter at hand. And then he thought about how useful actually being able to use a weapon would have been during any one of his adventures in the last three years and said, "No, I mean, with the way that my school years have been going, I'd really be better off learning to fight with a weapon. You're right. And there really isn't much choice to be had between adventuring and being bored." As he spoke, Harry had to fight down a feeling of disbelief. This summer was almost sounding like it could be fun. Harry might even have a good time this summer.

Hawke was watching him, his blue eyes wrinkled in confusion. "Are Outrealm schools that dangerous?" he asked.

"No, si... Hawke. But I seem to have the worst luck. My first Defense teacher tried to kill me, in my second year I fought a giant basilisk, and in my third there were these soul-sucking monsters and one of the professors turned out to be a werewolf which wouldn't have been such a bad thing if he hadn't forgotten to take his Wolfsbane the one night of the full moon..." Harry had to stop, then, and take a deep breath. He ducked his head under his cousin's rather incredulous gaze.

"Right. So, yes, definitely fighting for you. No longer an option. And, like I said, I'm thinking you look like a rogue, and we've already got two archers, so I'm thinking you look like daggers. Sparkly, shiny, pointy bits of metal. What say you?" Hawke asked, and Harry flinched because the smile on his face was now clearly forced.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, anything, to apologize for unnerving his cousin or to agree or to do something, when his stomach growled long and loud. Weakly, Harry said, "Learning to fight with daggers sounds good?" He hadn't realized how hungry he was, but he wasn't surprised. He hadn't eaten since he'd left Hogwarts, after all. There hadn't been time. But he'd gone for longer without food in summers past. It would just be a matter of getting used to it again, that was all.

"Of course, fighting requires energy which requires fuel which means that you need to eat. Or was that a darkspawn in your stomach?" Hawke asked, his tone finally regaining some of cheer that Harry had quickly realized was a part of his cousin.

"I don't... what's a darkspawn?" Harry asked, even as his cousin snagged his arm and dragged him gently from the study where Harry had spent the night. He was a little more relaxed, now that it was clear that his cousin was, in fact, going to feed him before the adventuring could begin.

"Ahh, darkspawn. They're... monsters. We'll go with monsters. Their blood is toxic and they like to eat humans. Be glad that you don't have them Outrealm. They're annoying little shits, and when they're not little they're even worse." Hawke paused, obviously considering, then he said, "But enough about that. Darkspawn are not conducive to a healthy appetite."

"You could say that again. Hawke, are we keeping the miniature?" the scruffy man from last night asked, eyeing Harry warily.

"He's family, Anders! How could I turn him away?" Hawke asked cheerfully.

"He could be a con-artist," the other, apparently Anders, pointed out. He didn't sound accusing, though, and Harry could agree that it was a valid point. He absolutely could be a con-artist.

"In which case he'll make an excellent addition to our band of madmen. And mad elves. And mad dwarves. Or just the one dwarf." Hawke got a pained look on his face. "Oh, Maker, I've gone and got two more."

"Are you really counting the boy's dog?" Anders asked, even as they settled around what seemed to be an absolutely delicious looking feast. "I know that we're Ferelden and all, Hawke, but that might be taking things a bit far."

"We are Ferelden," Hawke said cheerfully, "But no, I was counting Harry's godfather, assuming that Harry wasn't playing a fantastic joke last night."

Harry froze. "I told you about Sirius?" he squeaked. He couldn't remember that conversation at all; it must have happened after he'd been asleep. He glanced down at the dog, whose head was currently in his lap, and wondered why Sirius hadn't stopped him from opening his big mouth. He couldn't believe that he'd done that.

"You did," his cousin confirmed. "Although I confess that I'm not entirely certain how he's a dog. Or why he's still a dog. Does he just not like us?" There was a bit of offense in his cousin's tone, and Harry fought down a smile.

"I don't think he's used to being around people anymore," Harry offered shyly. "And I think he's concerned that he smells a bit off. He hasn't really been able to take a bath or anything for a while. It's been a few days since we left Hogwarts, and the world Outrealm isn't exactly safe for him."

Hawke frowned, tilted his head in consideration, then shrugged. "Doubt it'll be the worst I've smelled," his cousin said pragmatically, "and I'd like to meet the man. So he can join us if he'd like." There was a cheerful smile on his face as he spoke the last bit, his frown vanishing as though it had never been.

Harry was starting to wonder if maybe his cousin was crazy. Nobody could be that cheerful all the time. But before he could voice his question, which was probably a good thing because it wasn't a very polite question, Sirius had shifted back to his human form. Of course, he'd forgotten to come out from under the table, so there was a loud 'thunk' as his head struck it.

Harry couldn't help his laughter at the muffled curses that followed.

"'m okay," his godfather said as he emerged from beneath the table. He was every bit as thin and ragged as Harry had remembered, and he didn't smell quite right, but Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling. Sirius was the first adult ever that actually wanted to keep him. Harry would forgive a lot for that.

Sirius' smile was brittle, like broken glass, but it was there. Harry couldn't imagine what it had been like, spending over a decade with the dementors, and wasn't at all surprised that there was a bit of glass in Sirius' smile. "Sure you don't mind me being here, human, and reeking?" Sirius asked Hawke.

"No problem," Hawke answered easily. "And while your godson is out learning how to adventure properly, you, sir, are definitely taking a bath. Because while I don't mind the rather... rancid smell you're putting off for one meal, we're not dealing with it on a daily basis." Hawke's smile, even when his nose was wrinkling at Sirius' scent, never disappeared.

"Do you ever stop smiling?" Harry blurted out, then his eyes widened in horror. He couldn't believe he'd just asked that. How much of an idiot could he be? That had been so rude. The Dursleys hadn't taught him much, but they'd taught him better than that.

"When he stops smiling, run like hell the other way," Anders said cheerfully, "because things are about to get a little crazy. I think the only two times I've seen him not smiling were when Varric's brother abandoned us in the Deep Roads, and when he went head to head with the Arishok over Isabella."

Hawke stopped smiling then as he clearly considered what Anders had said. Finally, mildly, he pointed out, "I'm pretty sure that I don't grin like a maniac all the time when we're having sex."

While Anders sputtered in response, Harry burst into startled giggles, followed by Sirius' rather raucous barking laughter. The rest of breakfast passed swiftly and far more cheerily than any other breakfast in Harry's memory. It was fantastic.

He really had made the best decision ever when he'd come to Kirkwall to live with his cousin.

ooOOooOOoo

Hawke had given him two long, wickedly sharp daggers before he, Anders, and Harry had set off. Harry had handled them carefully and placed them back in the sheaths Hawke provided pretty much as soon as Hawke told him it was okay to do so. He wasn't at all confident in his ability to hold off anybody with the two very pointy bits of metal. He just didn't know how.

And then they were off, and it hadn't escaped Harry's notice at all that both Hawke and Anders worked very hard to keep Harry between them as they wandered through the city. When Harry stopped to stare at something, both of them stopped with him and chuckled indulgently. Each time it happened he was allowed only a few moments to look before the both of them began hustling him along a bit nervously. Harry wondered what they were so frightened of. It was broad daylight, after all, and who would attack in broad daylight in a crowded street?

"And, we're here," Hawke said cheerfully.

Harry blinked. The manor before them was... well, it was a manor. But it had fallen into disrepair some time ago, obviously. Several of the windows had been busted out and had never been replaced, and the whole manor gave off this strange feeling of doom. It wasn't quite as bad as the Shrieking Shack had been, but it certainly wasn't anywhere Harry would want to spend a great deal of time.

"What exactly is here?" Harry asked hesitantly. They were standing pretty much right in front of the decrepit manor and Harry couldn't quite figure out why.

"Your bodyguard is here, as a matter of fact," Hawke said cheerfully. "Because we can't watch over you and watch out for enemies at the same time."

Harry's first instinct was to protest; he was more than capable of taking care of himself, after all. But then he considered. He didn't really know anything about Kirkwall, other than that his cousin lived there. And he'd almost been attacked the night before when he'd been on his way to see his cousin, so could he really say that the city was safe? Not to mention, he had no idea how to use the daggers he'd been gifted. So he probably shouldn't protest the necessity of a bodyguard. "That makes sense," he grumbled. He didn't like it, but it made sense.

"Oh, good, thank you so much for not fighting me on this one," Hawke said, and opened the door to the decrepit manor. It, of course, creaked ominously.

...and there was a corpse in the foyer. Just sitting there, waiting for Harry to trip over it. And wasn't that a little creepy? Not to mention, why was it even there? "Corpse?" he managed to squeak out with a vaguely inquiring tone.

"Oh, yeah, mind the corpses. They're rotting, you might catch something, please don't touch them," Hawke said.

"Why... why are they here?" Harry managed. "That doesn't make any sense. Who keeps corpses just lying around?"

"Fenris," Anders answered. "But don't worry. His snarl is worse than his bite. Although, actually, his bite is pretty vicious too."

"Are you calling me a dog, Mage?" a low voice snarled from the shadows, startling Harry.

"If the collar fits, elf," Anders shot back, a nasty smirk on his face. Harry frowned. He hadn't realized the mage had a nasty side to him. He'd seemed so nice over breakfast.

"Anders. Fenris," Hawke bit out, the smile on his face slipping just a bit.

Honestly, it was the first time that Harry had so much as heard irritation in his cousin's voice, not to even mention the frown almost appearing on Hawke's face. He thought maybe he would be okay without having to hear or see either again in this particular context. It was a little bit unnerving.

"What can I do for you, Hawke?" that deep voice, presumably belonging to Fenris, asked. The coolest being that Harry had ever seen stepped from the shadows and into the light. The elf had sharp features and white hair, but what really drew Harry's gaze were the striking tattoos etched along his skin. The elf's lips curled into a sneer when he caught Harry staring at him. "Problem, child?" he asked.

Harry was embarrassed by the squeak he let out when addressed directly. "No sir," he said, and ducked his head. He dared to peek up through his eyelashes, only to find Fenris still glowering at him. He dropped his gaze immediately.

"Now, Fenris, that's no way to treat your new charge," Hawke said cheerfully. "He's an absolute sweetheart. Just look at that adorable face."

"Absolutely not, Hawke!" he protested. Harry looked up to find that Fenris had switched over to glaring at Hawke, his fist clenching and unclenching in what appeared to be rage. "I am neither a babysitter nor a guard dog!"

Harry flinched at the venom in the elf's tone. It wasn't like it wasn't something he was used to, being unwanted. The Dursleys had certainly never wanted him around, so he was quite used to having his presence forced upon people. But so far, everyone had been so nice. He hadn't been prepared for the utter poison in the elf's tone at the idea of looking after Harry. Maybe he shouldn't have come. Maybe this had been a mistake.

His cousin cut him a sharp look and then said, "But Fenris, I'd like to turn him into our mascot!" in the most bright and cheerful voice Harry had heard from him yet. It was sort of overly perky, in fact. "He'll follow us everywhere, and everyone will recognize him, and so he'll need somebody to take care of him until he can take care of himself!" And while his words and tone were quite jovial, and the smile had certainly not fallen from his face, Hawke's eyes were sharp enough to cut through stone.

Fenris, apparently, got the message. He scowled but ground out, "The things that I do for you, Hawke." He shifted to stand next to Harry, then, and Harry fought the urge to shift away awkwardly.

"You're a good man, Fenris," Hawke said cheerfully, acting as though there was no tension present within the room whatsoever. "So, I've got a little job lined up for us! Why don't we go and collect Isabella, see if maybe she can't teach Harry a little bit about taking care of himself, and then maybe we head off and hunt down a few Qunari swords? I've got word on a bit of coin available for the taking!"

"Don't we have enough coin already?" Anders asked as they made their way out of the decrepit manor.

"Anders! Bite your tongue my good man. We can never have too much coin!" Hawke said merrily. "Harry, first lesson. There is no such thing as too much coin! Got that?"

Harry laughed. "I certainly never thought there could be," he answered, his mood lifting. He was going on an adventure, how could he not have fun with that? No matter that there was a surly elf guarding him, he could handle that. And who knew? Maybe Fenris would come around eventually.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry had never been in a bar quite like this one before. For one thing, he'd never seen a giant suit of armor hanging upside down by its feet. It made for an interesting introduction to the most notorious tavern in Kirkwall. The people inside seemed infinitely more... colorful than they did at the Leaky Cauldron, but that might simply be because some of them were actually drinking with what seemed to be the intention of getting drunk and staying that way. Harry hadn't ever actually been around people drinking to be drunk. That had never been one of the Dursley's vices.

And then Hawke and Fenris were ushering him through the lower level of the bar and up the stairs, and there was a group of people seated around a table playing what looked to be a card game: a female elf with short brown hair and an adorable face, a dwarf with an earring and short hair pulled into a ponytail, and a scantily clad human woman with long dark hair.

Harry immediately wanted to return to the decrepit mansion from earlier when the woman spotted him and let out an unearthly squeal. "Oh, Hawke, you've brought me a cabin boy of my very own," she gushed. She stood, then, and swayed over to Harry, revealing that she wasn't actually wearing any pants. "Isn't he just precious?"

Harry, already more than a little unnerved just by the setting of this odd meeting, took a nervous step back. He felt a hand at the small of his back, steadying him, but when he whipped his head around to look at Fenris the elf was paying him no attention whatsoever.

Hawke, meanwhile, was chuckling. Harry sort of hated his cousin in that moment. Just a little bit. "Actually, I kinda did Isabella," Hawke said brightly. "This is my baby cousin. He'll be staying with me for a few months, and I thought that maybe you might be the dear that you are and teach him a little bit about stabbing people in the back. You know, just to keep him safe and all."

"Hmm," Isabella hummed thoughtfully as she paced in a circle around him. Harry shifted uneasily while she was behind him. The woman made him wary for some reason, and he didn't like having her out of his sight. "He's certainly got the build to be a rogue like me," she murmured, thoughtful and serious. She studied Harry's face for a moment, then, once she'd made it back around.

Quite abruptly she lunged at him, her dagger coming up. Harry's hand found his wand and he had it pointed squarely between her eyes before she'd even made two steps in. It didn't waver.

"Nice reflexes," Isabella said cheerfully, "Although I don't quite know what you're going to do with that stick, Precious. It isn't good for much at all, unless you're going to use it for-"

"He's thirteen," Hawke interrupted irritably.

Isabella blinked and her lips curled into a slow smile. "And if you think that thirteen year olds don't-"

"He's my cousin, and he doesn't," Hawke interrupted, eyes dark and narrowed in threat.

"Hawke, not to interrupt your grand scheme or anything, but do you really think keeping the kid is the best idea?" the dwarf asked with a frown. Harry thought that maybe his face looked a little uncomfortable like that, like maybe he wasn't used to frowning.

"Varric, your doubts wound me! That's why I've got Fenris assigned as his bodyguard. What could possibly go wrong with something like this?" Hawke's grin didn't drop as he added, "Besides, he's family. And we all know that family looks after family, right?"

Varric shifted and said, "I guess. But Hawke, your life is a dangerous one. Do you really think that getting a kid involved is a wise idea?"

"Wise idea?" Hawke asked, then looked around the room as though puzzled. "I like how you confuse me for somebody who has wise ideas. C'mon, it'll be fun!"

The female elf frowned. "Hawke, wasn't that what you said about trying to figure out what was wrong with the Bone Pit a few years ago? And didn't we run into the undead and giant spiders?"

Hawke's grin didn't even waver. "And wasn't it fun, Merrill?" the mage asked.

"Well, no, not really. It was sort of gory. And the undead made those awful noises. I heard them for weeks after the fact." She wrinkled her nose, then, and added, "And I never did get the smell out of the underclothes I was wearing that day. I had to burn them."

"And that's enough of that conversation, Kitten," Isabella interrupted before she could continue. Which was great, because Harry's cheeks were flaming violently at the thought of a girl's underclothes.

"And so, my point is made. In a roundabout fashion, yes, but made nonetheless. Hawke, your life is just too dangerous for a kid to be involved. At least, when it comes to adventuring. Staying safe in Hightown? Sure. But I wouldn't take him out with you."

And that just sounded like one more prison for Harry to be stuck in. That was so not happening. "You know, the life that I lead is pretty dangerous. It seems like every year somebody's trying to kill me, and I'm still here," Harry snapped. He was tired of adults who thought he was helpless when he'd already killed a basilisk and fought off hundreds of dementors. And killed his first year DADA teacher, but he wasn't counting Quirrell. He hadn't meant to do that, after all.

Varric let out a startled laugh. "Well then, I guess you'll fit right in with the rest of us, won't you?" the dwarf muttered, shaking his head. "Hawke, you have the most interesting family."

"Yes, yes I do. Now, we're wasting daylight. Isabella, what do you say? Train your own cabin boy, find some Qunari swords, maybe make a bit of coin while we're at it?"

Isabella opened her mouth, then snapped it shut and shook her head. "No, no, that's too easy a shot. Hunting for Qunari swords? Sure, Hawke. And I'll try to keep my dirtier jokes about Qunari swords to a minimum around your dear cousin."

Hawke and Varric both burst into rowdy laughter while Merrill looked confused and Fenris rolled his eyes. Harry didn't get the joke at all, but he thought maybe he might be too young. He would probably get it when he was older. Of course, he wasn't entirely certain that he really wanted to be able to understand the joke in question.

ooOOooOOoo

One week into his training with Isabella, one week into his trying his hardest not to kill himself with the pointed instruments of death that his cousin insisted he learn to work with, Harry woke up relatively certain that he was going to die. This was most likely an exaggeration, but right about then it didn't feel like much of one to Harry.

He sat up and immediately regretted it. His head was throbbing, the room was spinning, and his body felt suspiciously like he'd gone a few rounds with Fluffy and lost miserably. He let out a groan of pain and flopped back on the bed, and immediately regretted that as well.

What had he done last night, anyway? He remembered clearing out a group of Bloodragers, and then finding the information that led to their leader, Jakeson Hall. The fight had been intense, but they'd won eventually. Hawke had taken the group to the Hanged Man to celebrate, and after his first taste of the most disgusting, vile thing ever, everything went curiously blank.

"So, now you know what it feels like to drink too much!" his godfather said brightly, loudly. The sound of Sirius' voice was like nails on a chalkboard and Harry let out a groan and covered his face with his pillow. This was just not fun.

"Not only that, but now he knows why he was given the instruction to always stretch before going to bed." Fenris was there as well. That was just lovely.

"Can I just die?" Harry croaked. "Seriously, can I just fall on my own pointy instrument of death? It might feel a little bit better if you would just let me do that."

Sirius laughed, the sound loud and painful to Harry's overly sensitive ears. "Harry, dearest godson, it is my solemn duty as your godfather to not only not allow you to die from this, but to make absolutely certain that the morning of your very first hangover goes as badly as possible," Sirius said with all the tone of a promise.

"I'm just here to make sure you get to Isabella in time for your lesson," Fenris said, the smug rolling off of him even if he couldn't see his surly bodyguard.

"I can't even move; you want me to go play with the knives?" Harry asked plaintively. "You're all mean and I hate you both very much."

The covers were ripped from his body and Sirius answered cheerfully, "You don't hate us, oh-hungover-one. And maybe, just maybe, next time you'll listen to your guard when he tells you to stop drinking next time."

Harry groaned and opened his eyes just enough to glower at his smirking godfather. The anger lasted until his dear, sweet godfather presented him with a plate of food, swimming in grease. Then Harry was too busy throwing up to be angry at much of anything. He was never drinking again.

ooOOooOOoo

Later in that first week, Harry scrunched his summer Potions essay into a little ball and flung it into the flames of Hawke's fireplace with a snarl of rage. He slammed his book shut and glowered down at it, wanting to throw the damned text into the fire as well. It was useless. It made no sense. He hated the class and really just didn't want to take it anymore. He hated Snape, who never explained much of anything. He hated the Slytherins who liked to throw things into his cauldron to see the different ways it exploded. And he really hated the dry, ridiculous, nonsensical book he was being forced to read for a class he didn't understand.

"Well, that was a little unnecessarily violent. Did the paper do something to offend you?" Anders asked, looking up from his own desk. Hawke never used his study, but he'd been quick to give Harry a small desk in there. At first Harry had wondered why he needed his own desk if Hawke was never in the study, but he'd quickly realized that just because Hawke wouldn't use it didn't mean that Anders wouldn't. And despite the fact that by now they'd spent several hours working in silence together in the study, Harry had never really spoken much to him. The mage normally kept to himself, and Harry generally didn't bother him because, hello, possessed mages were scary things.

"It exists," Harry answered grimly. "Do you think I could get away with stabbing my textbook?" he asked thoughtfully. "I could say that it jumped out at me and tried to kill me like my Care of Magical Creatures book last year."

Anders' expression scrunched into dubious thoughtfulness. "I think that your godfather would realize that didn't actually happen," he answered. "I mean, I could be wrong and all, but he seems like a pretty smart guy."

"He is," Harry said mournfully. "But he wouldn't blame me. He knows the teacher I have to put up with. He wouldn't care. He'd probably support an organized protest." Harry considered what he'd just said and added, "Or a disorganized one, for that matter. Maybe the disorganized more than the organized in fact."

"What is this subject that's taught so terribly?" Anders asked, and Harry had the distinct impression that the mage was laughing at him.

That was okay. As long as Anders was laughing he wasn't about to kill him. Hopefully. "Potions," he said, with the most venom he could possibly shove into his voice.

"Potions?" Anders repeated, just a bit incredulous. "Really, all this stress over brewing potions? What are you trying to do, make the Elixir of Heroism?"

Harry groaned. "I don't even know what that is but it sounds awful. Please don't give my teacher any ideas. And no, we're just writing about a potion. But Potions as a class just doesn't make any sense. So this assignment doesn't make any sense." Harry frowned and added, "At least, not to me. My one friend, Hermione, is probably already finished it."

"You know, I doubt they're the same thing, but I have dabbled in a bit of Herbalism. Why don't you let me take a look at that for you?" the mage asked, coming over to lift up Harry's third year Potions text.

Harry considered, then decided that Anders certainly couldn't hurt his understanding of Potions at all. "I would be very, very grateful if you would take a look," he said finally. "Maybe tell me a little bit that Snape seems to think we should all know instinctively. Like, really, what is the difference between dicing and chopping? Isn't it all the same?"

Anders let out a groan. "Okay, no, see, there's a problem right there. Let me go over some of the basic theory and terminology, let me study your book, and maybe tomorrow Hawke can loan you and Fenris to me and we can do some hands-on work in the clinic. We'll see how that goes, and then we can go from there."

Harry thought that maybe he would wind up owing Anders a bit of his soul before this summer was over, if only the mage could figure out how to make Potions just a little bit more easy on him. If so, the price was one that he was well-willing to pay.

ooOOooOOoo

Kirkwall, Harry had come to realize in the past three weeks, was insane. It was a mad, wild, beautiful town with some of the most colorful people he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting. It was ever-flowing, ever-changing, and every time Harry thought he had a handle on the politics of the place, somebody new tried to kill his cousin. Despite that insanity, this was the best summer that Harry had ever had and he still had a full month to go.

"You know, I resent the fact that you're grinning while people are trying to kill us!" Hawke shouted over the roar of battle.

Harry cackled madly and darted behind one of the cultists, slitting their throat with an ease he'd never thought to have. "If you'd stop dragging me out at night and getting us ambushed, Hawke, I wouldn't unnerve you so!" he called back.

He'd always been a quick study when it came to staying alive, and between Varric and Isabella he'd been picking locks and slitting throats in no time at all. That didn't mean, of course, that he was allowed to go anywhere by himself. Fenris still followed him everywhere, despite the fact that Harry was now more than capable of taking care of himself. Hawke apparently wasn't willing to risk losing another family member, and Harry couldn't honestly say that he minded much. It was kind of nice to have someone like Hawke worrying over him, and it wasn't as though having Fenris follow him around was a hardship. For some reason he always seemed to get better deals at the markets when the elf was present.

"No, not really, because I've seen you slitting throats in the daylight too!" Hawke called as he fired off a fireball. "That's even worse, because then I can see you grinning as you slice and dice men twice your size!"

"What can I say, Hawke? I'm a great teacher!" Isabella crowed from where she was perched on the steps, watching the flow of battle. "Always going for the throat, just like I taught him!" she added as Harry went for another one of the idiotic cultists. Seriously, why did people get themselves involved with messes like this?

"You could be helping!" Harry shouted as he ducked under a not-so-friendly bit of fire from Hawke's general direction. Really, he could be a little bit more careful with the fireballs he was slinging so carelessly. He'd almost taken off Harry's head with that one.

Then he yelped as he was struck from behind by what felt suspiciously like an ice spell of some sort. Oh, so Hawke had actually been aiming when he'd shot off that spell. He turned, knives up, and found Fenris between the mage and himself, the lyrium in his skin glowing blue, his fist in the attacker's chest.

Harry winced when Fenris ripped the poor man's heart out. It was really no worse than what he'd been doing with his knives, but somehow it felt far more violent. Yes, either way somebody ended up dead, but at least the one way seemed much faster. And Harry hated it when Fenris did that to keep him safe. The instances had been fewer in recent days than when he'd first begun in Kirkwall, but they still happened.

"Make sure that you watch your back as well as your front," Fenris said gravely as the battle wound down around them. "I won't always be here to watch your back, child."

"And yet, you've never let someone get more than one hit on me," Harry pointed out cheerfully, "so I've little incentive to focus on my back." For all that the surly elf seemed to dislike him, seemed to resent his assignment, he'd always been at Harry's back in the past three weeks. It really was comforting to have the elf around all the time.

"Was that a hint that you wanted me to stop watching your back?" the elf asked.

Before Harry could respond, Isabella swayed over to him. "And you were doing so well before that, Precious," she sighed. "Back to the practice ring for you tomorrow, then." She and Hawke began the laborious, and disgusting, task of looting the bodies.

Harry grimaced, but started to help with said disgusting task. "Yeah, well, not even you watch your own back all the time," he pointed out, feeling just a bit smug.

Isabella glowered at him. "The apprentice saves his master just once from an uppity idiot with a sword and suddenly thinks he's invincible," she said. "What trouble this apprentice you've saddled me with is, Hawke."

"Don't blame me for him. I didn't bring him up, and I know that you love the trouble," Hawke answered cheerfully. "Ooh, look at all of these lovely shiny bits getting ready to make their homes in our purses!"

"And you expect me to be anything other than trouble with that as my model?" Harry asked, jerking his head in Hawke's direction as they finished up with the looting. Hawke was right; these idiots had indeed had a fair amount of coin on their person.

They made their way back to the Hanged Man, then, a place that Harry had swiftly gotten used to. And no, he'd never drank so much again in the weeks since his first adventure with a hangover. If he had his way, that adventure would be the last of its kind. Even if it was incredibly hard to follow his self-imposed rule. The patrons all really seemed to like him, and they delighted in buying him drinks. Or Hawke had told them to do it, one way or another, it resulted in his having a lot of drinks purchased for him on any given night. Maybe it amused them to see a child trying not to get drunk? He typically gave them to Hawke, which, now that he was thinking about it, might be why Hawke had encouraged the patrons, assuming that he had. Knowing Hawke, he had.

"You know, I should be more concerned by the way that my godson always comes back with bloodstains all over his clothing when he travels with you," Sirius pointed out from where he was engaged in a card game with Varric, Merrill, and Anders. Harry didn't even have to guess to know who was winning.

"You're just jealous," Harry chirped as he perched on the empty chair next to Sirius. He studied his godfather's hand and winced theatrically. "What exactly are you planning on doing with that mess of nothing, anyway?" he asked.

Sirius threw the cards down on the table. "Well, I was going to try and bluff, but now I guess I'm folding," Sirius said with a sigh. He shot Harry a wicked glare. "You're lucky we weren't playing for anything, brat," he added with an affectionate little smile.

"He likes us better than you," Varric said cheerfully. "That's why Lightning always tells us what your hands are."

"I don't know about that," Harry said doubtfully. "Merrill keeps calling me adorable, and that's not really a word that any teenage boy wants to hear applied to their person. And Sirius never calls me that."

"So wait, are you saying that if I start calling you adorable that you'll help me with this damned game?" Sirius asked as he studied the cards he'd tossed on the table.

"Furball, I don't think there's anything in the world that can help you with this game. Blondie's better than you," Varric pointed out with a chuckle, even as he swept all the cards back into a neat little pile and started shuffling them once more.

"Thank you!" Anders said, and then cocked his head to one side and added, dubiously, "I think."

"It's okay, Sirius. I'm not so good at this game either," Merrill said cheerfully. She laid a hand on Sirius' shoulder and squeezed.

Sirius shot her an affectionate grin and crowed, "Ha! At least one of you clowns isn't mean to me!"

"Oh Hawke, really?" came an unfamiliar, utterly exasperated woman's voice from the entrance to Varric's room.

"Aveline!" Varric called cheerfully. "What brings the Captain of the Guard to my humble abode? We haven't seen you around lately."

"Some of us have actual work to do," the redhead in ornate armor said pointedly. "And I'm here looking for Hawke. I'd been hearing some rather disturbing rumors recently, and so I thought that I would come by and let Hawke disprove them himself. I never actually expected that he really was using a child to do some of his dirty work."

"And I don't," Hawke interrupted before Aveline could work up to what Harry thought sounded like it was about to be a glorious rant. He was kind of disappointed, because she looked like the type who could really lay into someone, and it would be nice to watch someone lay into his cousin. Just on principle, of course.

"So the rumors come from nowhere, then, an the child isn't slitting purses and throats indiscriminately? That he's here, and bloodstained, is all just a coincidence?" Aveline shook her head sharply. "Hawke, really, I-"

"He's my cousin!" Hawke interrupted once more.

"Which means... what?" Aveline asked. She was scowling thunderously, now, her face ruddying with rage. Harry couldn't help but think rather meanly that the expression seemed to suit her nicely. She looked like the scowling, disapproving sort. No wonder Hawke didn't spend much time with her. "That you'll feel more guilty when he gets himself killed gallivanting about Kirkwall in the middle of the night?"

"Which means that I couldn't just turn him out into the street and this city isn't safe for anyone. It would be irresponsible of me to keep my cousin here and not train him to defend himself," Hawke pointed out sharply. His omnipresent smile was there as always, but at this point Harry thought that it looked rather forced. His cousin's patience was apparently wearing thin.

"I'll grant you that, Hawke," Aveline said as though it pained her, "Maker knows that my guards and I can't be everywhere at once, and Kirkwall does seem to attract more than its share of madness. But there's a difference between helping your cousin learn to defend himself and using him as an... as an assassin!"

Hawke's smile disappeared and he opened his mouth to say something, and before he could, Harry blurted out, "I'm learning a valuable life skill!" When everyone turned to stare at him incredulously, Harry shrugged. "What? I consider the ability to slice and dice my enemies into finger-sized bits to be an incredibly important survival skill, considering the number of times people have tried to kill me already."

Apparently that was enough to render the Captain speechless, because she shook her head, threw up her hands, and stormed from the room. The game of cards resumed almost immediately, and Hawke's smile blossomed as he tried once more to teach Anders the proper way to play the game.

Harry considered that to be a job well done.

ooOOooOOoo

"So, I'm not really all that sure that you should come with us for this one," Hawke said even as the five of them picked their way gradually down the rather steep slope in the Bone Pit.

It was a full three weeks after the... incident with Aveline, and Harry had hoped to be over this by then. All three weeks, Hawke had spent time waffling and debating before finally allowing Harry to accompany him on whatever adventure he had planned for the day. But every time, every single time, Anders accompanied them now. Even though Aveline herself had gone out with them a few times, had remarked on how very good with his blades Harry was, Anders still came out with them every time.

Which actually was a little bit disturbing, because Harry had noticed that the mage tended to be much quieter than he had been even two weeks ago, and Justice seemed more prone to make appearances. And while Harry didn't know all that much about mages within Thedas, much less possessed ones, he was pretty sure that was anything but a good sign. His suspicions were confirmed by the fact that Fenris seemed closer and closer to slicing the mage's head off with every passing moment.

But anyway, Harry's point was that Hawke was now bringing the healer everywhere, and today he'd brought Varric instead of Isabella. And that was great because Varric actually told jokes that Harry understood. Isabella tended to make dirtier jokes, and Harry hated it when everyone in the group was laughing except for him. It was even worse when Harry was pretty sure they were laughing at him.

"Well," Harry said thoughtfully in response to Hawke's earlier comment, "I suppose I could make my way back up the slope but I honestly think it's a little too late for that." The ground was, after all, already levelling out before them, and Harry was not making the trek up that slope again because Hawke had cold feet. Honestly, it wasn't like anything particularly dangerous was going to happen.

"No, because then you might run into whatever caused the destruction of the mines by yourself," Hawke grumbled, "and none of us would be around to protect you." He finally shook his head and sighed, "No, you might as well stick with us. It's pretty quiet down here at least."

And then, as things tended to do when Harry happened to be involved, everything went straight to hell.

They heard the angry roar of the dragon first, followed by a gust of wind as the massive beast landed. One mighty claw swept out and knocked Anders to one side in an impressive opening gambit.

"Oh, Maker," Hawke breathed, because who could imagine a high dragon this close to Kirkwall? It was madness.

"Why do you have to say things like that, Hawke? You were practically asking for this!" Varric shouted, even as he drew Bianca and opened fire.

"Harry, stay back! Keep us on your feet if you can, and for the Maker's sake, if we fall you run!" Hawke bellowed even as he began to cast Winter's Grasp.

Harry was incredibly grateful that he'd learned from Anders to make some fairly strong healing poultices, and that he always carried a rather insane amount at all times. Because he had the feeling that even though he was carrying a crazy amount of poultices, they wouldn't be enough for this. A high dragon? Really? The Maker was laughing at them.

And then Harry didn't have the time to believe that the Maker was laughing at them, didn't have time to believe much of anything at all, because everything started moving too quickly. It seemed like as soon as he got one of the adults back on their feet, another went down. Fenris gave him several heart attacks, especially the time he got picked up and tossed around by the dragon in the middle of the fight. But slowly and surely they whittled away at the dragon's defenses, until it retreated to a cliff and called for a wave of small dragons.

These, Harry could help with, and so he did. He darted in and out and around the mess of dragons, striking where he could. He used the breather to get Varric, Hawke, Anders, and Fenris back up to their fullest strength because he knew the battle wasn't over. The dragon was still up there, after all, and the moment the last smaller dragon fell, the High Dragon let out another enraged roar and jumped off her rock.

They fought through two more waves in that manner, and Harry was just starting to think maybe they might win the day. Which was fantastic, because he had no intention at all of running away if everyone else had fallen. For one thing, he didn't think the dragon would exactly allow him to just walk away. But none of that mattered, because the dragon was wearing down. It was clear her strength was fading and her movements were slowing just enough to make scoring hits on her easier for Fenris, Hawke, Anders, and Varric.

And then Fenris went down with a cry of pain that made Harry cringe. He was rather fond of the surly elf; he didn't want Fenris to be hurt. Harry dodged a gout of flame and darted across the field of battle to kneel before the fallen warrior. It was then that he found, much to his dismay, that he had finally run out of supplies.

"Hawke, I'm out of poultices!" Harry shouted.

Hawke didn't respond.

Harry glanced up and his heart skipped a few beats. Hawke was down, too, and as he watched, the dragon flailed out and caught Anders with her tail, knocking him into the valley wall. Anders didn't get back up, and was, in fact, frighteningly still. Varric was still up, still firing away, but the dragon apparently didn't think he was much of a threat. She ignored Varric and instead darted towards Fenris' unconscious form, head lowered to bite.

Harry didn't stop to think. He brought his daggers up and lunged at the beast, scoring a long gash from her eye to her neck, and taking her left eye along for the ride.

He heard her shriek in rage and pain but he didn't dare turn to look. Instead, he darted between her stomping feet and beneath the dragon. He could feel the gust of heat and wind and hear the snap of her teeth as they closed only millimeters from Harry's new spot beneath her.

While under the dragon and on his way out to the other side, Harry lifted both daggers and found that, yes, in fact, the dragon's underbelly was as soft as her eyes. Really, this wasn't that much unlike fighting the basilisk in his second year. At least he could keep his eyes open for this one. And all he really had to do was keep moving. Isabella had certainly prepared him for that. A slow rogue is a dead rogue, she'd drilled into him.

"Harry, are you crazy?" Varric shouted. Harry heard but didn't care because he had more important things to worry about than an irritable dwarf. Like, you know, the twenty-ton dragon that was trying to use him as a toothpick.

He twisted and danced and darted in with his knives whenever he found a somewhat vulnerable spot. The dragon was already slow from her earlier wounds or Harry knew he wouldn't have stood a chance. As it was, he could barely keep up with her. Varric drew the dragon's ire occasionally by scoring a shot or two, giving Harry an occasional second of breathing room, but for the most part Harry was on his own.

He didn't know how long he'd been dancing with the dragon when he felt her claw pierce his stomach. Harry shrieked in pain, but gritted his teeth and kept moving. To slow down was to be dead, and Harry had a lot to do before he died.

"Would you just die already?" Harry snarled at the dragon, darting in close once more as the dragon lifted her claw.

The dragon staggered and Harry spotted another opening. He took it, leaping onto the incoming claw and then onto the darting neck. He raised both daggers and stabbed into her neck, then jerked them free and got her other eye when she turned to snap at him. The dragon's head flailed and Harry was flung free, or would have been had his dagger not been stuck in her eye. He clung to it grimly, wincing as he felt his shoulder snap out of place.

The dragon roared, and Harry had to close his eyes against the heat of her flame building. Harry struck blindly up into the dragon's mouth, and felt the moment his dagger speared the soft roof of her mouth. He recognized the feeling from his equally frantic fight with the basilisk.

The high dragon shrieked and began to spasm, the violent motion finally throwing Harry all the way clear. He landed on his back on the floor of the Pit, his head striking the ground with a crack he could hear as much as he could feel. As the dragon's spasms slowed, everything around Harry went black.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry heard them talking, first. And by talking, he definitely meant arguing.

"Did you mean to get my godson killed?" Sirius was shouting. He could hear the anger, the frustration in his godfather's voice.

Harry winced. His head was throbbing miserably. Sirius shouting wasn't really helping with that. Harry tried to open his eyes, to open his mouth and protest, to do something, but the moment his eyes fluttered open the world spun angrily around him and he slammed them shut once more.

"Shut up, mutt! Your shouting won't do anything but hurt his head even more," Fenris growled. He'd survived, then. That was good news, Harry thought rather fuzzily.

"I thought it was your job to protect him!" Sirius shot back, his voice still far too loud for Harry's peace of mind. And that just wasn't nice. Fenris had done everything he could to protect Harry in the fight against that monster. It wasn't his fault that Harry had gotten himself injured.

"I should have liked to see you face down a fully-grown high dragon," Fenris snarled back. But at least he was quiet in his irritation.

"Both of you are disturbing my patient and if you aren't careful, and quiet, I'll throw you out into the street," Anders said quietly and clearly. Harry felt a small rush of healing energy flow through him with the words and the ache in his head eased just enough that he felt comfortable slitting his eyes open just a bit. The world didn't spin nearly as much this time around.

It took him a moment to realize he was in the clinic, on the table towards the back of the room. He could spot Sirius, as well as the four that had been with him for the fight with the dragon. Isabella and Merrill were there as well, Merrill nervously wringing her hands while Isabella spoke to her in a low voice. Harry felt a sickening surge of guilt for making them all worry about him, not that it was his fault or anything.

"Seriously, Sirius, it isn't like I took him to fight a high dragon knowing that was what we were going to be facing. And, honestly, according to Varric we'd be dead without him," Hawke said. "Which, let me just say, is doing wonders for my pride. It's a balm to my sore ego, to know that my fourteen year old cousin killed a high dragon after it put me and everyone else on our asses."

"I totally kicked that dragon's ass," Harry croaked, then winced because he hadn't been expecting his voice to sound like he'd swallowed dragon's fire. That was awful. And it felt like he had, too, which was even worse.

"You did, yes," Hawke agreed, leaning over to stare him in the eye. "Can he sit?" Hawke asked Anders.

"For a second, and only a second," Anders said, and Harry was lifted and Anders slid in behind him to support him. Which was great, because Harry was pretty sure he wouldn't be moving on his own anytime soon.

"Head down, kid," Hawke commanded, and Harry obediently lowered his head. He felt something land around his neck, something cool and hard, and hesitantly glanced down. Hawke had dropped a pendant of some sort around his neck. Upon closer inspection, it looked suspiciously like a high dragon's tooth. "You killed the dragon, and as such, you earned yourself a little trinket. It's called Urzara's Tooth; it should help to keep you safe. You know, so that you don't go out and get yourself killed the next time you go out and fight a fully-grown dragon."

Harry laughed, still a croaky sound but a little bit better. "Because that's something that'll come up often," Harry chortled.

"It'd better not," Sirius said darkly. "But I'm glad you're alright, pup." His godfather leaned down, then, and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "You should get some more rest."

"He _should_ get some more rest, thank you," Anders said sharply. "You've all seen that he's awake, now, and he needs some rest to recover from this nonsense. He'll be able to have visitors for longer periods of time once I'm comfortable moving him up to Hawke's house, now shoo!" Anders settled him gently back into bed, then, and tucked a blanket up around him.

Harry was about to protest that he wasn't tired, that he didn't need to rest, when he felt a gentle compulsion to sleep washing over him. He had just enough time to curse the mages of Thedas and their sneaky abilities before Anders' sleep spell took him back into dreams.

ooOOooOOoo

Once Anders had been comfortable moving him back home had turned out to be later in the same evening. Of course, that didn't mean that Harry was allowed to just go and do whatever. Stomach wounds, which was what that claw in the side had turned out to be, were quite tricky and Anders wanted to give the healing time to set. Which meant that Harry was stuck in bed for the next two days. Harry had figured that those two days were going to suck terribly, but as it turned out, he was wrong.

"So Lightning, let's talk about that fight," Varric said cheerfully from the door the first morning of his enforced bed rest.

Harry swallowed the bit of food that he was working on and pointed out, "You were the only one of us to actually stay conscious for the entire fight. Shouldn't you be telling me what happened at the end?"

"Oh, the end was boring. Once you took the dragon's eyes and stabbed the roof of her mouth, well, then it was pretty much like anything else. Yeah, she flailed a bit more, she roared a bit more, and there was a bit more fear of being crushed in the death throes, but you get the idea." Varric shook his head then and added, "No, I'm more interested in what happened just before climbed that beauty like she was a particularly violent mountain. " Varric leaned back in his chair, then, and stared at Harry meaningfully.

Harry frowned. The fight really had been a blur; he could barely remember parts of it. He still wasn't entirely sure how he'd won, in fact. And he didn't remember anything that out of the ordinary. Aside, of course, from the fact that he killed a dragon. That was pretty out of the ordinary. "I have no clue what you're talking about," Harry said honestly.

Varric leaned forward, his hands steepled. "LIghtning, you talked to her. And she understood. But you weren't speaking any language I ever heard."

Harry blinked and tried to remember. His eyes widened, then. A language that he could speak that others couldn't understand? That sounded... sort of familiar, actually. He closed his eyes and focussed on the memory of the basilisk from his second year, and asked, "~Did it sound something like this?~" in Parseltongue. He opened his eyes just in time to see Varric grimacing.

"Yeah, Lightning, it sounded just like that," the dwarf said with a shudder. "What did you say just then, anyway?"

"I asked if it sounded like that," Harry said absently. Huh. Dragons understood Parseltongue. That could be... that could be very useful in the future. If, you know, he ever got around to fighting another dragon. Which, actually, he was pretty determined not to ever do again.

"Well, Lightning, I don't know what language that is, but it's creepy. And it could be very useful. You could make a lot of coin talking to dragons in the right circles," Varric pointed out with a grin.

"I'd rather that particular talent not make the rounds," Harry said quickly. It wasn't that he was ashamed... well, no. In all honesty, he was ashamed of it. His talent had caused him quite a bit of trouble in his second year and he wasn't ready to flaunt it. Besides, he wasn't sure how his godfather would react to the news that he was a parselmouth.

Varric sighed. "Such a shame, Lightning." He shook his head mournfully. "You just don't have any vision."

Harry chuckled softly, then winced as it pulled at the delicate skin around his stomach. "Us young people these days," he said agreeably. "We're too busy being proud of ourselves for killing off dragons to have any kind of vision."

"Well, that's certainly worth being proud of." Varric stood, then. "Well, I've gotta go. Blondie'll have my head if I exhaust you while your head and stomach are still questionable. Take care, Lightning, and get better fast. We already miss you at the Hanged Man."

Harry closed his eyes once Varric was gone. He'd thought he wouldn't be tired, thought that maybe Anders was just being a mother hen, but apparently not so much. He dropped off to sleep pretty much as soon as he let his eyes drift closed.

ooOOooOOoo

Of course, he couldn't just sleep the entirety of the two days, much as he sort of wanted to. He'd rested for quite a lot of the first day, then found after lunch that he could sleep no more. He instead began working on the last of his summer projects, an essay on Transfigurations that he was really mostly finished with. He'd written only a few words before he was joined by a very irritable Fenris. Well, more irritable than the elf normally was at any rate.

Fenris slouched in the chair by Harry's bed after slamming the door. He glared in Harry's general direction, but Harry knew the elf well enough after spending almost two months with him to know that it wasn't Harry Fenris was actually glaring at.

Harry's eyes narrowed. The elf was normally surly, but this was particularly bad even for Fenris. "What's up?" he asked. It wasn't that Fenris wasn't surly all the time, and it wasn't that the elf didn't brood on occasion, it was just that this particular mood seemed more black than normal.

"I don't want to talk about it," Fenris growled. He slouched even further in his chair and directed his glower to the unlit fireplace in Harry's room. Harry thought that maybe Fenris might be able to light it with just the force of his glare. Perhaps it was a latent mage talent?

Harry banished the thought before he said something aloud. No need to taunt the already irritable warrior. "Sure," he offered instead of saying what he really wanted. He then focussed his attention once more on his Transfigurations essay, raising it to squint at some of his rather deplorable handwriting.

A few moments passed in silence, and then Fenris said quite abruptly, "Hawke went with me to see my sister."

Harry made sure to wipe the smile from his face before lowering his essay. "I didn't know you had one," he said neutrally. Fenris never made much mention of his family, but Harry couldn't blame him. It wasn't as though Fenris had any clear memories of them.

"I don't, anymore. She sold me out to Denarius and I... I lost my temper." There was an anger in Fenris' voice, in his posture, that would have confused somebody who didn't know the elf fairly well. But Harry did, and could see the sorrow, the undertone of grief beneath it.

"I'm sorry," he offered quietly.

Fenris snarled, "I don't want your pity!"

Harry flinched, then said coolly, "If you had it, I would care more about your not wanting it."

Fenris had the grace to look chagrined. "I... apologize. My anger is not with you."

Harry smiled gently. "It's okay," he murmured. "Can I help?"

Fenris shook his head, a violent a sharp motion. "I just..." he trailed off and lowered his head. The warrior looked so weary just then, Harry ached for his friend.

But Harry didn't need him to finish the sentence. Fenris didn't want to be alone, didn't want to be reminded of his old master, didn't want to be around Hawke and the constant joking banter; the options were endless. Harry was more than happy to be his friend's silent support.

He lifted his essay once more and started to study it for errors once more. When Hawke swung by to check on him only twenty minutes later, Fenris had fallen asleep in the chair, a peaceful expression on his face, his head tilted at an angle that made Harry cringe.

Harry didn't even try to hide the smirk on his face at his cousin's incredulous look.

ooOOooOOoo

A full two days after the incident with Fenris coming to him, Anders had decreed that Harry was more than well enough to be back on his feet. Hawke still hadn't taken him with him that day, leaving Harry to bum around Anders' clinic all day with Fenris glowering at his side. Harry had enjoyed himself in the clinic, and was determined to spend at least one or two more days helping the mage out down there before he was forced to return to Hogwarts.

Now, however, Fenris was gone, Anders was still at his clinic, and Sirius was who knew where doing who knew what with who knew whom. And so, Harry found himself in the somewhat dubious position of eating a meal with his older cousin, alone. This was not normally the case, and Harry wasn't stupid enough not to think that something was up. He knew better.

"What?" he asked defensively. His cousin was staring at him over the dinner table, just watching as he finished his meal. HIs cousin wasn't smiling, and that lack of smile was very disconcerting. There was no doubt in his mind now that Hawke had planned this for some reason, and the options available made him less than eager to finish his meal. This couldn't possible be going anywhere Harry wanted it to.

"Summer's coming to an end for you very shortly, isn't it? We have a little over a week left if I'm not mistaken," Hawke said, and his tone said very much that he doubted he was. Nobody did casual arrogance quite like his cousin.

"You're not mistaken," Harry said with a small sigh. For the first time since he'd first gone to Hogwarts, he wasn't looking forward to the end of the summer. For that matter, this year might just mark the first year ever that he wasn't looking forward to the end of summer. He was happy here. He thought that maybe he would be perfectly content to stay here and continue making mischief and mayhem with his cousin and his merry band of miscreants.

"So I figure, that being the case, that you and I have a few things that we should talk about."

Harry's heart dropped. "You don't want me to come back next break," he whispered, though it was difficult to make any noise at all around the sudden lump in his throat.

"What? No! Maker, no, nothing like that!" Hawke answered. "In fact, what I want is the opposite of that. I'd like to accompany you Outrealm to have a word with your current guardians. You know, see if we can't make things a little more official. Because you've mentioned some things about the level of danger at your school that make me a little bit uncomfortable, and I'd rather have legal standing if anything should go wrong with your school."

Harry's fork fell to his plate with a clatter. He didn't even think; he rocketed around the table and flung his arms around Hawke. His cousin tensed, then relaxed and gently returned the embrace.

"Thank you," Harry whispered in his cousin's ear, clinging with all of his strength. He let go, then, and crept back around to his side of the table, blushing furiously as he reseated himself.

"I thought you knew by now that sudden movements like that in my direction are not generally advised?" Hawke asked, a gentle smile on his face.

"Sorry," Harry whispered, and busied himself with a bite of Orana's fantastic roast. Now that he was no longer panicking about not being able to come back next break, food tasted amazing again.

"No, no, it's fine. I take it you like the idea, then?" Hawke asked cheerfully. HIs grin was back in full force, now, as though it had never disappeared or softened.

"How could I not?" Harry asked. "Being here with you guys was the best time I've ever had. I'm so glad that you want me to come back." Harry's throat was still choked off, but now for an entirely different reason. The only time he'd ever been close to this happy had been when Sirius had offered to let Harry live with him just before summer. Harry thought maybe he would be able to fight off a million dementors with the happiness from this memory if it ever came down to it.

Hawke's grin turned a little wobbly for just a second before the Champion chuckled. "Okay, great. Now eat your dinner; you're still far too skinny."

Harry's answering smile was a bit wobbly himself, which was why he had the decency not to call his cousin on the slight shaking in his voice. He instead dipped his head into a shallow nod and took another bite of his food. His cousin still wanted him, and he finally had a home away from Hogwarts that he could rely on.

This summer had been the best ever.

ooOOooOOoo

It was on his last full day with Hawke and the others that Harry and Fenris stumbled into an interesting discussion between Anders and Hawke. Hawke had told Harry to take the day, say goodbye to the town, whatever, as they had to leave fairly early in the morning. As it stood, with this schedule, Harry would have only a day to speak with the Dursleys, get his things, and then be on the train by eleven o'clock the next morning. It was going to be a bit of a rush.

So Harry had wandered around and said his goodbyes, and now he was visiting Anders in his clinic. He figured he could spend the rest of the day helping Anders out, as he'd done the past few days. Kirkwall had been quiet, lately, and though tensions between the mages and the templars ran high Hawke had largely chosen to stay neutral in the fight, which led to a dearth of things for the Champion and his companions to do. And, as Harry had said earlier, volunteering at the clinic was fun. So, there he was, intending to spend his last day of summer making poultices and brewing potions. That was something he'd never thought he'd enjoy doing...

However, before he could walk into the clinic, he heard both his cousin and Anders in there and froze just outside, Fenris at his side. "Hawke, please. I just... I know that Justice isn't... he isn't the same anymore, and I know that he's not right or... or good for me. But I think... I think I've found a way to get rid of him for good," Anders was saying.

Fenris let out a small, disbelieving snort. "The only way to get rid of a demon is to kill the host," the elf said lowly.

Harry elbowed the surly elf in the ribs and tried not to flinch as he accidentally struck a bit of armor the wrong way. "Quiet, Broody," he hissed to the elf.

"You've spent too much time around Varric," Fenris hissed back, but fell silent obediently. Apparently the elf was just as curious about this conversation as Harry was.

"Anders, if this is dangerous for you, then it isn't worth it," Hawke was answering, and Harry smiled. His cousin was head over heels in love with the possessed mage. Harry didn't envy him that at all, actually, because it couldn't be easy. And it was almost guaranteed to have an unhappy ending.

"It's not..." Anders hesitated, and when he spoke again it sounded suspiciously like he was hedging his words. "It isn't all that dangerous to me, not really. I mean, of course, nothing's without its own risk, but this should be fine. I just... well, two of the ingredients are a little difficult to get, that's all, and I just need you help me get ahold of them. Sela Petrae and Drakestone, to be specific." Anders' voice had taken on a higher, slightly faster tone than normal. He was nervous.

Harry's eyes narrowed. He should be nervous. Those weren't... he'd been there when Anders had found the mixture those two ingredients could make. He wasn't sure that the mage even realized he'd been reading aloud, but he had been, and Harry remembered thinking that an explosion of that scale could probably have taken out Hogwarts.

"Are you sure this won't hurt you in any way?" Hawke was asking dubiously as Harry pushed open the door.

Harry couldn't stay silent, not on this. Not if Anders was doing anything with... He didn't know what Anders was planning, but anything involving an explosive like that could only lead to trouble. "So, I'm not potions prodigy, Anders can certainly attest to that, but those ingredients sound suspiciously like the active agents necessary to make a pretty powerful explosive," he said conversationally.

Hawke's dubious expression morphed quickly to an outright frown. "Anders?" he asked quietly, giving his lover a chance to explain.

Justice, instead, let out a sudden roar of rage and lunged at Harry, only to be blocked by a snarling, glowing Fenris with his blade lifted. "Give me an excuse, Demon," Fenris snarled.

"Justice must be done!" the demon roared back, the energy coming off of him saturating the air in the clinic and making it feel electrically charged. It was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling, and Harry fingered his blades warily.

"How exactly is making some sort of explosive device causing any sort of justice?" Hawke asked, although the expression on his cousin's face told Harry that Hawke likely already knew the answer, at least partially.

"I will destroy those who oppress us and rally others to our cause! The monsters that seek to enslave us must learn that we will stand for their cruelty no longer!" Justice whirled on Hawke, then, and said, "And though I do not approve of you, surely you can understand the need to act. The templars and their cruelty grow by miles each day!"

"No, actually, I really can't understand this at all," Hawke said flatly. "You're talking about blowing up... blowing up what?" Hawke shook his head, then realization dawned and he breathed, "You're talking about blowing up the Chantry, aren't you? That isn't going to do anybody any good! The only thing you'll do with that is get the Right of Annulment called down on the Circle!"

"And then the mages will rise up and break free of the chains the oppressors use to bind them!" Justice shouted. "If you cannot see that-"

"The only thing that I see happening is the Divine calling an Exalted March!" Hawke shouted. He slammed his hand against the table and said, low and imploring, "Can't you see that the only thing this will do is get you, and hundreds of other innocent people, killed?"

"If you won't stand with me, Hawke, then you stand against me," Justice answered coldly. "I always knew it was a mistake to allow Anders to consort with you, but I never imagined that you wouldn't be there for him in this hour of his need." Justice turned his back on Hawke, then, and stalked towards the entrance to the clinic. He brushed roughly past Harry. "I'll do this without you, then."

Harry watched as Hawke made a decision. His cousin closed his eyes, his face dark and pained. "I can't let you do that, Justice," he whispered. He drew his staff.

Justice whirled once more, his staff raising and the energy in the small clinic rocketing ever higher. "You dare?" he shouted, a fireball forming on his staff.

Fenris didn't give him the chance to fire it. Before Harry could so much as pull his blades or Hawke could begin a spell, Fenris had his fist inside Anders' chest. He jerked his fist out, then, and with it came Anders' bloody heart.

Hawke let out a choked cry and sprinted forward to catch Anders' body as he fell. The blue faded from Anders' body as Justice dispersed, leaving behind Anders' corpse.

"Hawke," Fenris began hesitantly, apologetically.

"Don't," Hawke said sharply, tears streaming down his face. He shook his head and said, "You did the right thing. I know that, you don't need me to..." Hawke trailed off, then whispered, "But I can't. Please. Just... just leave us."

Harry pulled Fenris from the clinic and out of Darktown. "Hanged Man?" he asked quietly, not sure of what else to suggest. He could give the news to Varric, and the dwarf would see that the news made the rounds. He could at least take that burden from his cousin.

Fenris was nodding wordlessly in response to the suggestion. He shook the hand that he'd shoved into Anders' chest, blood spattering along the pavement.

Harry stopped walking and pulled a cloth from his belt. "Give me your arm," he commanded quietly. The cloth was one he normally kept to wipe off bits of treasure before they went into his pocket.

Now, when Fenris presented his arm, Harry used it to carefully wipe the blood from it. Harry realized that Fenris' hands were shaking badly as he wiped the blood from the elf's arm. "I didn't..." Fenris stopped, then said quietly, "I was almost starting to believe that I wouldn't have to kill him." The regret in his voice was a physical thing in the air between them.

Harry smiled sadly as he tucked the cloth back into his belt. "From what I've read on possession, this was never going to end well." He squeezed Fenris' hand and dropped it, then. There was no doubt in his mind that Fenris had absolutely done the right thing.

"For Hawke's sake, I had begun to hope that Anders would beat the odds," was Fenris' quiet response.

Harry had nothing to say to that, not really, so he simply began walking towards the Hanged Man once more. He'd hoped that for Hawke as well, and it was a damned shame that those hopes hadn't come to fruition.

ooOOooOOoo

Anders' funeral, held the next morning at dawn by the water on the Wounded Coast, wasn't attended by many, and most that came were well known to Harry. The vast majority of Hawke's friends were there, even Sebastian, whom Harry had seen only once. The Chantry brother had said something disparaging about Harry and while Harry had been amused, Hawke hadn't. That had been the first and only time he'd seen Sebastian up until the funeral.

The fact that even Sebastian was there made the fact that Fenris was not all the more suspicious. The elf had walked Harry back to Hightown, said his goodbyes, and then Harry hadn't seen him since. Harry was more than a little concerned, because Fenris hadn't quite seemed himself when he'd left Hawke's manor last night. He hoped the elf was okay, but he wasn't going to get a chance to find out. They were leaving right after the funeral. Harry just hoped that Hawke would look in on the elf.

And from what Harry understood of Outrealm funerals, this one was unique in that no official from the Chantry spoke. Harry wasn't exactly surprised, considering that Anders wouldn't have appreciated it if they had, but Harry thought it might have made things a little bit better. As it was each of Anders' friends said something small, which meant that after everyone who had wanted to had spoken, they all milled about a bit awkwardly.

Hawke was standing, still and stoic, his face entirely blank. Harry knew the expression to be a lie. Harry had heard him the night before, sobbing and screaming drunken invectives at the unfairness of it all. Harry knew his cousin had a terrible life before Kirkwall, that his cousin had lost a lot in his time, but he'd never really seen any evidence of that until now. Harry had seen the aftermath of his cousin's rage after Sirius had gotten Hawke tucked into bed. He'd destroyed the library almost entirely, the desk in the study that had belonged to Anders' burned to a cinder and several shelves of books overturned entirely. Harry had done what he could to clean the mess up with Orana's help, but he knew it wasn't enough.

Hawke had hugged him that morning and apologized for his deplorable behavior, and the smile on his face had gotten nowhere near his eyes. Harry hadn't thought that Hawke should apologize, or should be forcing smiles onto his face. Hawke hadn't hurt him, after all, and nobody would expect him to be his normal self today. How could they?

After the funeral was over, after Anders' body had burned, Hawke took a long and slow breath and closed his eyes. It was the most he'd moved since the funeral had begun. When he opened them once more, his eyes were clear and calm. Quietly he said to his friends, "Thank you all for coming. I'm sure that Anders would have appreciated it, even if Justice never did understand our worth to him."

He cleared his throat, then, and said, "Unfortunately, I have to take Harry back Outrealm now. He has his school to attend, and Maker knows I wouldn't want anyone to accuse me of corrupting a minor." He forced a smile onto his face and nodded at Aveline. "But he's coming back over the winter, and we're going to keep his godfather hostage to make certain of it."

It seemed that business as usual seemed to be the order of the day. "Harry will have to come back to work off my debt to Isabella if I don't get any better at cards," Sirius said with forced cheer. "She'll probably own me by Christmas."

"It's adorable that you think I don't already own you," Isabella crooned, drawing a bit of strained laughter. "Take care, precious, and keep your blades and skills sharp. There will be a test when you get back."

"And by a test, she means that she'll lunge at you and see how fast you get your blades up, Lightning," Varric said teasingly. "So make sure you stay fast. And alive. Your school's enough to give a respectable dwarf nightmares."

"Good thing you aren't respectable," Harry shot back, his throat choking off suspiciously. It made it very difficult for Harry to speak, much less to keep up with Varric.

"It's a damn good thing," Varric agreed. "Respectable is boring."

"Take care of yourself, Harry, and make sure that you don't forget us," Merrill offered, with a quick hug for him. She handed him something, a small carved statue of a halla. Harry recognized it as the one she always kept on the mantle in her house. "Come back to us soon," she whispered, and backed up.

Harry tucked the statuette into his bag and offered Merrill a wobbly smile. "I could never forget you guys," he whispered. That was the only sound he could get past the lump in his throat.

"Well, you managed to survive a summer with these ruffians. I expect nothing that I can do would get you to change your mind about coming back," Aveline said quietly. She'd turned out not to be too bad in the past two weeks, since once she'd known about him she'd been drug out with Hawke much more often. She was a bit... stodgy, a bit too attached to the rules, but Harry liked her. She reminded him a bit of Hermione in that sense.

"Probably nothing in the world could change my mind about coming back," Harry said cheerily. Not when his alternative was staying with the Dursleys over the summer. "Besides, I'll have to pay off Sirius' debts. I can't leave him here to serve Isabella all his life." The laughter, this time, came to the group a little more easily and Harry relaxed just a bit.

"Right. We have to get going or we won't have time to get everything done we have to today," Hawke said quietly, but there was a small smile on his face.

"Be good while I'm gone, guys," Harry offered. "I won't be here to save you from anymore dragons if you find them."

"Get out of here, Lightning, before we school you on saving people," Varric said with a shooing motion in Harry's general direction.

Harry didn't want to go. He didn't want to leave like this, on this sour note. He didn't want to go back to Hogwarts where he had teachers who either hated him or didn't care, where Ron and Hermione fought like the children they both were, to a world where his godfather had never even been given a trial. And he was going to miss Fenris, who hadn't even bothered to show up to properly say goodbye. Harry couldn't deny that the elf's failure to show hurt, but then, he supposed he couldn't blame Fenris for not showing. He had killed the mage, after all.

"Harry," Hawke said quietly, pulling Harry from his thoughts. "We really do need to be going," his cousin said apologetically.

Harry nodded, and the two of them set off for Kirkwall for the last time until winter, the others following quietly behind. It was a subdued end to a fantastic summer, but Harry wouldn't trade the experience for anything in the world.

Hopefully the winter break would go a little more smoothly than the summer had.

* * *

**A/N: Guys, I'm so sorry. Both for the wait, which was just inexcusable, and for the death of Anders. I swear, when I came up with this story, I didn't mean for Anders to die. It was just supposed to be a light-hearted scene where Harry was like, "Hey, these two ingredients don't make a potion, they make a bomb!" and Hawke would have slapped Anders on the wrist, and the entire Act III crisis would have been averted and everyone would have lived happily ever after. And then I started writing when I was in a really bad mood, and, well, that's not a good idea. Because once I wrote in Anders' death, I couldn't see changing it, because I felt as though it fit. So yeah. I'm sorry that I killed him, but at the same time, I'm not.**

**In other news, you have now read two out of four of the scenes that inspired me to start this fic: the fight with the dragon, and the thing with Anders (even if it didn't go quite the way I'd planned). The other two scenes are coming up in Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts.**

**Also, updates for this story: Will not be for a while again. I will finish Heir, and then I will finish Dragon Singer, and then I'll finish this. So I wouldn't expect another update for at least another three months, to be perfectly honest. But we'll see.**

**Let me know what you thought of the chapter!**


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